


If Someone Dies In An Empty House, Is It Still A Murder?

by TheGingerDetective



Category: Psych, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGingerDetective/pseuds/TheGingerDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events leading up to Sherlock's death never sat right with John. It always seemed like he missed something. Something important. But to put together the truth behind what happened to his friend, he would need a mind like Sherlock's. Lucky for him, he seems to have found just that in the form of a consulting psychic from America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Someone Dies In An Empty House, Is It Still A Murder?

**1986**

“Dad, I can’t find my new light-up yo-yo anywhere!”

 Henry sighed and set his morning paper down on the kitchen table.

“Shawn, obviously you’re not looking hard enough.”

“But I am!” Shawn whined. “I looked everywhere I had it, but I can’t find it.”

“Well, it must’ve walked off then, right?”

Shawn’s eyes lit up. “You think it could do that?”

“No. I don’t.”

Shawn fell into the chair next to his dad with a sigh. “Well then what happened to it?”

“Okay. Listen up, Shawn, because this will be important when you’re a cop someday,” Henry said. “Things don’t just happen. There’s an explanation for everything, and if you haven’t found it yet, then either you’re not thinking hard enough…” He tapped his finger to Shawn’s forehead. “…Or you’re not thinking smart enough. Now, where did you go with the yo-yo?”

“Let’s see,” Shawn said, thinking. “I got up and came downstairs with it. I had breakfast. Then I went outside with it because mom said not to use it indoors.”

“Okay,” Henry said. “Where next?”

“Next I came in and had a snack, and after that I watched some cartoons. That’s when I noticed it was missing!”

“And you looked everywhere you went?”

“Yes, everywhere!”

“What did you have for a snack, Shawn?”

“Cookies and milk,” Shawn said. “Why?”

Henry got up from the table and walked over to the fridge. He opened it up and pulled Shawn’s yo-yo out.

“Right next to the milk,” Henry said, handing his son the yo-yo.

Shawn, excited, accepted his toy. “How’d you know it was in there?”

Henry sat back down at the table. “Because it was the only place it could have been.”

 “Why?” Shawn said, crinkling his nose up. “I wouldn’t think I’d have left it in the fridge.”

“That’s my point, Shawn. You can’t always trust what you think you know for sure. But you can always trust facts. I knew for a fact that you’d looked everywhere else you’d been, and that you’d gone in the fridge for a snack. From there, it was easy.”

Shawn looked down at his yo-yo and grinned. “Well, thanks, Dad.”

Henry picked the morning newspaper back up. He knew his little lesson had probably gone in one ear and out the other. “Anytime, kid.”

Henry heard his son hurrying off. All was quiet for about thirty seconds before he heard a crash.

Henry sighed. “Shawn?”

There was a long pause. “Can we not tell mom?”

**Present Day**

“I think I may have a major problem,” Shawn said, walking into the Psych office.

Gus looked up from where he was working at his desk. “Does it involve not having money to pay the rent because we haven’t been hired in three weeks?”

“Gus, you know I don’t concern myself with that kind of thing,” Shawn said, leaning up against his own desk.

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why they keep trying to kick us out of here.”

“Next week,” Shawn said, ignoring Gus’s comment, “is Juliet and I’s three-year anniversary.”

“Wow,” Gus said. “Congratulations. But I don’t see how you managing to keep a steady relationship that long is a problem.”

“ _That’s_ not the problem. And you’re one to talk about keeping a girlfriend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shawn,” Gus said. “I know you must just be jealous of my player skills.”

“The last woman you took out to dinner left you five minutes in because she said she had an important job interview. You hadn’t even ordered appetizers yet.”

“For your information, she emailed me the next week to tell me she got the job,” Gus said.

Shawn nodded. “Yes, and she also said never to call her again. The problem, Gus, is that I have no idea what to do for our anniversary.”

“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Gus said, “Since I’m obviously so bad at interacting with women.”

Shawn paused. “You’re right. What was I thinking?”

Gus gave Shawn a look and turned back to his work.

Just then, a man walked slowly into the room. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes and when he spoke, his accent was English.

“Would one of you happen to be Shawn Spencer?” he asked.

“My name is Shawn Spencer, sir,” Shawn said.  “And that man over there is my partner, Grimesby Roylott.”

“The name is Burton Guster,” Gus said, getting up to shake the man’s hand, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“John Watson,” the man said, accepting Gus’s hand, “Likewise. I’m glad I found you. I had to look up directions here from my hotel.” He flashed a piece of paper with writing on it for the two to see. “I wasn’t sure how reliable they’d be.”

“Hotel?” Shawn said. “Did you visit Santa Barbara to find us, or did someone get murdered while you were on vacation?”

“The former,” John said, frowning slightly. “Does the other option happen a lot?”

“You’d be surprised,” Shawn said.

“It really doesn’t happen,” Gus said, with a look over at Shawn.

“It happens sometimes.”

“Not that I remember.”

Shawn sighed. “I can’t do this with you right now.” He turned back to John. “Where are you visiting from?”

“London,” John said.

“Wow,” Gus said. “How did you hear about us all the way in London?”

“From one of your clients,” John said. “Colin Summers? You helped prove his innocence in a murder over here.”

Gus nodded his understanding, but Shawn looked over in confusion. “I thought he was from Canada?”

“He said he was from the UK,” Gus said.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“The UK is not in Canada, Shawn.”

“Anyway,” John cut in, quelling the out-breaking argument, “When he got back, he went on the news. Whole of London heard his story. He said you were able to clear his name because you could see things. Things you shouldn’t be able to see.”

“Well, John, I am a psychic,” Shawn said, grinning. “I can sense many things that ordinary people can’t.”

John nodded, looking Shawn up and down. “If you don’t mind me asking,” John said, “What can you sense about me?”

Shawn looked over at Gus for a second, then back at John. There wasn’t much to go on. But the short haircut, his posture as he stood waiting, and that note he’d written…

Well, there was no harm in taking some guesses.

Shawn put a hand to his head.

“You’re a doctor,” he said. “But you also have a military background. Army doc, maybe?”

There was a long pause.

Shawn grinned. “Was I right?” he asked, although the look on John’s face gave him the answer.

John nodded.

“Wait,” Shawn said, as he ran his eyes over John one more time. Light bags under his eyes. Fidgeting fingers. Slight tremor in his left hand. “There’s a cloud of psychic energy around you, and it’s giving off something else. Something pretty strong.”

Shawn screwed his eyes shut. John’s eyes looked tired. Despite the military-style haircut, his clothes looked a bit rumpled. “You’re grieving.” John wasn’t tanned. He hadn’t seen combat in a while. “But not from anything you saw in war.”

Shawn opened his eyes. “You lost someone close to you. And if I had to bet, I would say that’s the reason you’re here.”

“Shawn,” Gus warned, noticing the look that passed over John’s face.

“No, no. He’s…” John cleared his throat. “He’s right.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Gus asked.

John nodded. “It was three years ago. I shared a flat with my best friend, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Gus asked.

“You’ve heard of him?” John asked.

“Vaguely. You’re the guy with the blog?”

“Yes. Well, I used to be, anyway.”

“I think I’m missing something here,” Shawn said.

“Sherlock was a detective,” John explained. “A consulting detective, as he put it. He worked privately but helped Scotland Yard out whenever they needed it. I used to document his cases on my blog. It had a pretty big following at the time.”

“Okay, three years ago,” Shawn said. “What happened?”

John hesitated before going on. “There was a man. Jim Moriarty. He was without a doubt the most hateful man you’ll ever meet. Had no problem kidnapping me and strapping a bomb to my chest at our first encounter.”

“Oh my God,” Gus said.

“That was just the beginning. He came after Sherlock again. This time he turned everyone against him. He made it seem like Sherlock was a fraud. He made everyone believe Sherlock had faked everything, all the cases that he’d solved. He even went as far to say Sherlock had hired an actor, Richard Brook, to play Moriarty.”

“And people believed him?” Shawn asked.

“You have to understand, Mr. Spencer, Sherlock…he did incredible things. Not all that unlike what you just showed me. And he didn’t exactly have many friends at the Yard. He wasn’t the friendliest man in the world.”

“So I’m guessing it wasn’t very hard to convince everyone he’d been faking the whole time,” Gus said.

“I didn’t believe Moriarty,” John said. “I knew Sherlock too well. But then, Sherlock…”

John trailed off and looked down.

“What happened to him?” Shawn said.

John exhaled deeply and looked back up at Shawn. “He killed himself.”

“I’m real sorry, man,” Shawn said.

John nodded, looking away again.

“That does beg the question,” Shawn said. “If he committed suicide three years ago, why are you hiring a detective now? And why do you need one in the first place?”

“Because Sherlock Holmes was not a fraud,” John said. “I know that. So I want to know why he told me he was.”

There was a pause before John continued.

“Right before he died, he called me. He told me everything Moriarty said was true. But it’s never sat right with me. Three years later, and I’m still convinced something else was going on. The world may be content to think he was a fake, but I want to know what happened to my best friend. I’m not a detective though. I can’t figure it out on my own. When I saw Colin Summers talking about you, I realized that if you can do what Sherlock did, you may be able to help.”

Shawn glanced over at Gus. The sympathetic crier was at it again. “Just so we’re clear,” Shawn said, turning his attention back to John, “You hire me, I find out why Sherlock told you he was a fake when he wasn’t?”

“And,” John said. “Why he died. There was something else going on that day. Behind his death, behind everything he said. I just want to know what it is.”

“Alright,” Shawn said. “One more thing. How are we supposed to investigate something that happened in London?”

“I may be able to help there,” John said. “How does a trip to London sound?”

Shawn grinned. “It sounds awesome!”

“Shawn, I have another job,” Gus said, recovering his composure.

“That you are way overdue for a vacation from,” Shawn said. “Come on, man! London!  Hey!” He turned back to John. “Can I bring someone else along to help with the case?”

John shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Shawn smiled. “And there’s my anniversary problem fixed.”

“Your anniversary gift to Juliet is going to be working a case?” Gus said.

“No, my anniversary gift for Jules will be us working together in  _London_.”

“I take it that means you’ll take the case?” John asked.

“You bet it does, buddy,” Shawn said. “We’ll find out what happened if it’s the last thing we do.”

“It better not be the last thing we do, Shawn,” Gus said.

John chuckled, and he seemed to relax a little. “Thank you. It means a lot. I’ll be in touch then? I have to sort out our flights, and you’ll need time to pack.”

“Sounds good,” Shawn said.

John nodded, thanked Shawn and Gus again, then left the office.

“Well,” Shawn said, once he was gone, “This should be interesting, huh?”

He walked over to his laptop and opened it.

“What are you doing?” Gus asked.

“Some research,” Shawn said. “Let’s see what we can find out about Sherlock Holmes.”

XxXx

_You paid to have John fly detectives in._

_S_

_What was I supposed to do? He asked for help. Was I supposed to let it look like I didn’t care about finding out what happened to you?_

_M_

_Just because John hired a detective doesn’t mean they’ll find anything._

_M_

_True._

_S_

_Just be careful. I hear he’s rather good._

_M_

_Not as good as me._

_S_

_Right._

_M_

_You know, John did seem happy. At the thought of hiring this detective, and finding out what happened to you. I haven’t seen him so hopeful in a while._

_M_

_Thank you._

_S_

_You’re welcome. And once again, please be careful._

_M_

_I always am._

_S_

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters coming soon, hopefully! I'm not all that happy with the title of this, so if you have any ideas of how to make The Empty House sound like a Psych episode title, please let me know! I hope you enjoyed!


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